According to several government sources with names, the Office of
Management and Budget is working with the Foreign Aid establishment to
come up with a plan to loan the U.S. Congress to a foreign country. The
plan, called “Export Egos, Democracy, Government--and--Actually Debate
Something”, or EE-GAADS, is meant to show recently emerging economic
powers how American style democracy works. OMB economists predict that
EE-GAADS will provide weary voters and the executive branch of the U.S.
Government a much needed break.

If all goes according to plan, within a year members of Congress will
move--in mass--to an emerging market country and begin legislating. OMB
planners expect that by nine months Congress will bankrupt the economy
of the country where they are working. Once demonstrating how democracy
works, they will move to another country and begin anew, to spend money,
and allocate earmarks, and debate critical issues, such as whether to
use “droppings” from the national bird to “fertilize” the national
flower.

OMB had originally planned to loan the U.S. Congress to Saudi Arabia.
However the oil rich kingdom country said it would prefer that the
United States loan it basketball players, pro-wrestlers, and clouds that
contain rain. Despite the setback, numerous countries have expressed
interest in borrowing the U.S. Congress for a brief period of time.

For example, France announced it would like to borrow the Congress for
six months and have it continue to denounce the Obama’s administration’s
expansive foreign policy.

French officials revealed a plan to locate the U.S. Congress inside
Disney World, France, and turn Congressional debate into a theme park
ride; allowing French ticket buyers to ride little boats down canals
that wind around the U.S. Congressional chamber.
French officials said they were willing to add, for free, the theme
song:

“It small world-view after all”

to the theme park ride.

Disney World-France designers expressed approval of the plan saying they
are willing to include Republican and Democratic caucus meetings as part
of Disney’s House of Horrors ride; locating the meetings between the
Jekyll & Hyde chamber and the American 50 hour work-week room.

Russia said it would like to borrow the U.S. Congress for one Moscow
winter and use it to filibuster legislation to implement banking
reforms, while simultaneously denouncing banks for providing cash to
members of Congress. Russian officials say that once the Americans
Congress leaves Moscow, the Russian public will once again appreciate
Russian officialdom’s openly honest approach to dishonest thievery.

The Ex-Soviet republic of Kazakhstan also expressed interest in
borrowing the U.S. Congress to pass legislation to provide critical
mohair subsidies to that country’s sheep farmers and its mohair styling
saloons. Kazakhstan said it also would ask the U.S. Congressional to
pass a cash-for-cluckers program to upgrade that country’s deteriorating
poultry industry.

Turkmenistan said it would like to borrow the U.S. Congress to liven up
that regime’s stone-faced TV comedy shows. According to rumors,
Turkmenistan’s citizens have grown bored watching Stalin statues slip
and fall on Turkish carpets made out of banana peels.

Tajikistan said it would like to borrow the U.S. Congress so its
government police could take Congressmen hostage and demand ransom from
Kazak sheep herders who are looking for chicken and mohair subsidies.

And the Leader of Uzbekistan pleaded with the U.S. Congress to come and
work in his country, saying that he was bored since he had no
legislative body left to raid, close down, and put into prison.

The next day, the Taliban invited the U.S. Congress to Pakistan and
demanded that they immediately begin legislating in order to paralyze
that country’s government.

Opinion polls show that the U.S. public overwhelming favors EE-GAADS and
would not mind if the U.S. Congress stayed loaned to foreign countries
for several decades. When asked which foreign country they prefer to
lend the U.S. Congress to, an overwhelming majority of Americans said
Uzbekistan; while a significant amount of Americans said Hawaii or
Alaska.

Several congressmen expressed excitement about EE-GADs; and said they
looked forward to moving overseas, practicing democracy, and spending
money, now that United States budget deficit has surpassed a trillion
dollars a year.

Meanwhile, OMB said that in light of the positive public responsive to
EE-GAADS, it was also proposing EE-GAADS: II or

In a desperate effort to cure the expanding obesity epidemic, the
Department of Agriculture has announced a plan to subsidize voluntary
hunger. Modeled after the Department’s acreage set-aside program which
pays farmers not to grow crops, the new plan will pay overweight
consumers to not eat.

USDA economist Keithly Kuchler explained the program while munching on a
USDA approved carrot:

“USDA pays really Big Farmers to not grow crops, which has prevented the
nation’s soils from being wasted.

Now, we will plan to pay really Big Shoppers to not eat food, which will
prevent the nation’s waists from being soiled.”

Department officials said that in the coming weeks, packets of anti-food
stamps will be issued to any person who can prove he or she is 20 pounds
overweight or unable to recognize his or her own feet.

Citizens with anti-food stamps who show up at store checkout counters
and show their stamps will be given bonus money if they hurl
store-bought meats and desserts into a government Dumpster. Dumpster
food will then be “dumped” on select food markets to reduce the fat
profits of select food retailers.

As the government’s anti-obesity plans unfolded, the administrator of
USDA’s “Fraud, Abuse, and Horse-Meat Agency” warned consumers that if
food stamps and anti-food stamps come into contact inside the same
wallet or purse, government budgets could explode and destroy consumer’s
diet choices.

The administrator said that anyone caught harboring both food and
anti-food stamps will be arrested and sent to vegetable consumption
camps, where they will be fed raked leaves, dried stems, and boiled
roots for six weeks.

--Oakton High School Student Weighs In--

As the anti-obesity plan got underway, a two hundred and forty pound
freshman student sued Virginia’s Oakton High School for violating the
Federal government’s TARP program.

Arguing that he too, was too big to fail, Jackson Marcus said that
Oakton High School violated federal TARP rules by allowing him to fail
his Algebra 1 class.
The Department of Agriculture quickly shipped two boxes of anti-food
stamps to the Marcus' Oakton home.

Attached to the boxes was a handwritten note which said:

“Lick, but do not directly eat, enclosed TARP anti-food stamps.“

The next day, the father of Jackson Marcus, Jack Marcus, informed
reporters that he had not planted one crop on his two-acre lot for the
past forty years. Thrusting a handful of pitch black soil before TV
cameras; the senior Marcus threatened to erode his entire yard, in one
scoop, if he did not receive USDA back-payments for not growing crops on
his land.

--A USDA Clarification--

Following the Jackson family dispute, USDA officials announced that any
farmer who receives subsidies for not growing crops on their land also
could be eligible to receive anti-obesity money. However, before
receiving both payments, farmers would have to prove that family members
would have eaten the crop which wasn’t grown, had it been grown.

Officials of USDA’s Fraud, Abuse, and Horse-Meat Agency:

"If you want both land set-aside payments and food set-a-side payments,
you must send us the expected yields and acreage of the crop that was
not grown. Then, you must send a record of the food you ate and an
estimate of the food which you would have eaten, had you harvested your
own crop.

It is up to you to prove the food you didn’t eat was not eaten because
you didn’t grow it.

That is, if you did not eat it because you did not grow it, then you are
fine.

But, if you did not grow it, because you did not plan to eat it, then
you will not be allowed to receive USDA subsidies.”

Jackson Marcus, responded by telling teachers that he had not eaten
hundreds of chocolate cakes in the past year, because his father had
never planted cake-mix seed in the yard.

Using his calculator, and calling cake mix yields “x” and his appetite
“y” and money “z”, Jackson Marcus said he figured the government owed
him a hundred and ten dollars.

And two semesters of a USDA-approved, C+ grade in his high school
algebra class.

The
Cellular ShootoutBy Jarod Duley, Michigan
Announcer 1: ... And we’re back from that minute cell identification
break. In case you are just tuning in to the microscope we are LIVE! At
the Sub Atomic Stadium. Featuring the Flagellumless Parameciums versus
the Two Celled Amoebas in the Chromosome Cup! My name... is not
important. I am joined by my fellow chromy. His name... is even less
important. The referees have given the signal to resume play. It appears
the two players are okay after their membranes collided during the last
rebound attempt. This game has really come down to the last mutation!

Announcer 2: The ‘Meciums have few backup players to choose from.
Several of their star players are on the injured list from lack of X’s
or Y’s.

A1: Resuming play now. Lester Lipid winds up for the pitch... Oh! An
amazing curve ball to the outside. Strike two on Roy Bisome. One more
swing like that and the Amoebas will be the winners!

A2: He must’ve had his nucleus closed to swing at that one, don’t you
think?

A1: Yes I do think so. But the ref has called a timeout.

A2: He seems to be checking the ball. Could Lipid have tampered with it?

A1: Let us hope not. This game is too important for pranks... No!
Unbelievable! The ref has found cytoplasm on the ball!

A2: Lipid must have sabotaged it during the timeout! That sneaky
symbiote!

A1: Nonetheless, a slimy situation for the Amoebas. No pun intended, of
course.

A1: There has been a ruling on the field. The line judge has ruled that
the Parameciums will kick a field goal. If the ‘Meciums can convert they
will be the neeew champions!

A2: You can feel the electrons in the air! This has turned out to be an
exciting game! I love this sport! I hope I never divide!

A1: The Parameciums are lining up for the penalty kick. Roy Bisome has
been chosen as the kicker. This could be it folks.

A2: I hope he has his nucleus open this time.

A1: Yes. Let us hope so.

A2: I hope next season we can share DNA as exciting as this.

A1: Roy Bisome has the ball. He seems to be having a difficult time
selecting the proper club. There. He has it now. A putter! He’s going to
use a putter?!

A2: It’s too late. He must use it according to handbook rules. It makes
no sense! That is a 30 micrometer shot he has to make. The distance is
too small!

A1: Bisome seems to be looking down field at his opponent Mito Chondria.
It will be up to him to block Bisome’s shot. Have these two ever matched
up before? Do we have any stats?

A2: ...I’m afraid RNA has not transmitted that info to us.

A1: The ref has blown the whistle to resume play. Bisome lines up. The
snap. He catches the ball, throws down his club, and starts charging at
the goalie! Mito Chondria looks poised . Bisome jumps for the goal line.
Mito jumps to intercept. OH! They have collided! It looks like Mito
stopped Bisome just short of the goal line. The crowd is going wild!
This is unprecedented! The Amoebas have won the Chromosome Cup! That’s
all the time for today! Join us next week for the Nucleic Acid Stakes.

“(Former astronaut Lisa Marie Nowak) must
stay away from the victim Colleen Shipman and has to write a “sincere”
letter of apology to her within 10 days.”
Associated Press item in the Cleveland Plain Dealer, November 11, 2009

Dear Ms. Nowak:

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Before Ms. Shipman sees the letter, however, it will be scrutinized by
an army of bureaucrats using the Sincere-o-Meter, which was developed by
a team of psychiatrists, social workers, counselors and other assorted
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No one gets into the supermarket checkout
line expecting an uplifting experience. Then again, except for me, no
one expects to be reduced to a cowering, simpering, drooling fool while
waiting to pay for his groceries.

When I approach the checkout line, my stomach churns, my hands get
clammy and my brow spews sweat. The problem is the magazine racks, that
canyon of frightening, emotionally paralyzing memories I must pass
through on my way to the cashier.

We – my wife, children and I – were a typical young family of the early
eighties. Fridays after work we’d reclaim the kids from day care, stop
for fast food and go to the grocery store. Every week, the final item in
the cart was a women’s magazine my wife snagged from the rack as we
waited to checkout.

Some of the women’s magazines looked interesting. They were the ones
with covers covered with cleavage and blurbs for articles such as “What
your man really wants: 26 sure-fire ways to please him in bed.” But my
spouse preferred the magazines for aspiring frumps.

The editors and publishers of the hausfrau magazines were marketing
geniuses. Every issue was packed with articles on food and diets. The
woman depressed and frustrated by her inability to drop either inches or
pounds on the “Lose a pound a day watching TV” diet featured in the
April issue was an easy target for the picture of a seven-layer cake and
the promise of “A month’s worth of sinfully rich desserts” on the May
cover.

On a more practical level, the magazines offered ideas on how a working
mother could be more efficient in the kitchen. The theory was a big meal
on Sunday would provide quick, easy-to-prepare meals the rest of the
week through the judicious use of leftovers. All the necessary
information, from the shopping list to the recipes for the feast on
Sunday, the casserole on Wednesday, the cold sandwiches on Saturday, and
all the dinners in between, was there.

Although they looked good on glossy paper, the suggestions for saving
time never worked. When the Sunday meal was as delicious as the hype,
there weren’t any leftovers. But if the Sunday meal fell short of
expectations, the leftovers cluttered the refrigerator until the life
forms that sprouted from them had evolved to the point where they
complained if we didn’t knock before opening the refrigerator.

Between the stories on what to eat and how to take off the resulting
tonnage, the editors inserted medical articles designed to keep mothers
in perpetual fear. Statistics available elsewhere indicated a child born
in the United States had a life expectancy approaching eighty years. The
truth, according to the magazines, was that a child could expect to live
until his next sneeze. “Just a cold or deadly medical mystery?” the
blurb on the cover asked. Quickly turning to Page 34, the young mother
found the answer. And it wasn’t hopeful.

Had the magazines stopped there, I would have merely snickered at them.
But somewhere in the middle of every issue lurked a compatibility test.
The test, developed by a psychologist of questionable repute and in dire
need of money, took the young mother’s mind off her child’s imminent
demise by warning her that her marriage was rushing toward a bitter,
ugly end.

Any time I was happily engaged in doing nothing, my wife would say,
“Take this test with me.” Most of the tests were multiple-choice, and
calling on my experience from a psychology class I’d taken in college, I
selected what I deemed the most nonsensical answer to each question. The
result was, I ranked among the great husbands of all time.

One day, however, I agreed to take a test, which, unbeknownst to me,
asked more open-ended questions. I held my own at first. Using a
variation of my multiple-choice technique, I gave answers that were the
opposite of the responses a reasonably intelligent person not corrupted
by psychology would give. But it was hard work and I had difficulty
maintaining my concentration.

“OK, this is question 20. Only five more to go,” she said. “What is your
greatest sexual fantasy?’

“To make love to a woman who weighs less than I do,” I said.

Oh, the rage, the anger, the fury that hell hath none like. The marriage
eventually ended. My fear of the magazines near the checkout line never
has.

Teenager 1*: The chick at the counter. She “whatevered” me. I should
have been the one to “whatever” her!
Teenager 2*: Go back in and “whatever” her now. I’ll wait.

Teenager 1*: I can’t go back and “whatever” her now. I’d look like an
ass-clown.
Teenager 2*: Well, it’s up to you. But I never let anyone “whatever” me
first. If I even think there’s a chance they might “whatever” me, I
“whatever” them right away and walk out.

Teenager 1*: Yeah, I should have done that.
Teenager 2*: Yeah, I’m not going to get “whatevered” by some lame piece
of crap who’s not nearly as spiritual as I am.

Teenager 1*: Yeah.
Teenager 2*: Yeah.

Teenager 1*: Hey, what’s that blowing at your feet?
Teenager 2*: I don’t know. It looks like it has words and pictures on
it. Maybe it’s a poster for a show or a new tattoo place.

Teenager 1*: No, it looks like it has stories on it or something.
Teenager 2*: Stories about Goths?

Teenager 1*: I don’t see any Goth stories. Looks more like stories about
a bunch of old, white dudes doing things.
Teenager 2*: Giving tattoos?

Teenager 1*: Yeah, no, I don’t see any of that. More like old, white
dudes and wars; old, white dudes and money; old white dudes arresting
people; crap like that.
Teenager 2*: What club is this at?

Teenager 1*: Old people don’t go online; they watch “The View” and read
“People” magazine for important news. I think they buy these paper news
things to do puzzles or to bet on their stock markets or something. The
news stuff looks like it just fills it out so it seems bigger than it
is.
Teenager 2*: Maybe they buy them for when it rains, too?

Teenager 1*: To see what the weather’s gonna be like?
Teenager 2*: No, like if it rains and they don’t have a hat but they
want their old, white dude toupees to stay dry, they put this over their
head on their way to bet on the stock markets?

Teenager 1*: I guess, but I saw one of my Mom’s skeezer boyfriends with
one of these and it wasn't even raining.
Teenager 2*: Yeah, then I don’t get it.

Teenager 1*: Me either.
Teenager 2*: Well, you could sit on it.

Teenager 1*: Yeah, you can sit on lots of things. So what?
Teenager 2*: I mean, so it wasn’t blowing at your feet.

Teenager 1*: Yeah, but I doubt if someone invented old, white dude paper
news things and sells them for a buck just so that you could sit on them
in case they were blowing at your feet.
Teenager 2*: Maybe they did.

Teenager 1*: No! I mean, then why wouldn’t someone sell something for 50
cents that will also blow at your feet and you could sit on? They’d sell
twice as many.
Teenager 2*: Maybe they do.

I feel at this time, fellow husbands,
that I should warn you about a situation that can only be defined as the
most horrendous and horrific scenario imaginable to the married man.
(Not counting the dream where you wake up next to Richard Simmons.) I’m
talking about running into your old girlfriend while you are with your
wife.

A series of emotions will run through your system, predominantly,
blacking out. However, if you follow these simple rules, you, too, will
be able to escape this chance meeting unscathed.

Let’s say you and your wife are shopping at the mall. (Actually, men
don’t go to the mall to shop. They go for the food court.) All of a
sudden, coming in the opposite direction, you see your ex-girlfriend.

First, don’t try to hide the fact that she was a former girlfriend. But,
if you can duck behind a large, potted plant before she sees you, do it.
You can always come up with some flimsy excuse to use on your wife as to
why you are skulking behind a large fern. (“Oh, I thought I saw a dollar
back there.”)

Then, introduce your ex-girlfriend to
your wife. The pitfall to watch here, guys, is getting your wife’s name
right. (“I’d like you to meet my wife, Mary, uh, Jane, uh Mary-Jane, uh,
Elliot.”) NOTE: If you’ve gotten to this point in the introduction, it
is highly advisable that you find the closest sharp object and slash
your wrists.

Keep in mind that as all three of you are standing there, smiling
stupidly at each other, you, the husband, are not the only one
experiencing all of these different emotions.

Your former ex and your wife are challenging their imaginations. For
instance, the girlfriend may be looking over the situation and asking
herself, “Why didn’t I duck behind that potted plant when I had the
chance?” Or, she may be looking at your wife and observing, “The poor
woman. I wonder if he’s putting her through the same nightmare I went
through.”

Now, your wife may be looking over your ex and asking, “Alright, she’s
attractive, but are those real?” Or, she may be pondering, “Poor thing.
I wonder if he put her through the same nightmare I’m going through.”

The husband, being driven by his own inflated ego, can only ponder one
scenario. “How can I get the two of them involved in a romantic
evening?” As enticing as this may seem, guys, and even though it may
contain the potential for an entire column of its own, the key thing to
remember here is to end the conversation as quickly as possible. This
can be done in a number of ways:

1. Fake a heart attack.

2. Remember that you left the water running in the tub.

3. Find the closest sharp object and slash your wrists.

If the situation should develop that the two women involved would like
to have coffee or lunch together, under no circumstances are you to
leave them alone for a moment. The thing to watch out for in this
situation, men, is that while you’re having lunch with two beautiful
women, the male ego kicks into overdrive. Avoid reminiscing. (“Remember
the night we made love in the linen closet at the Chicago Sheraton?”)
Or, (“How about the time we went skinny-dipping at that church fund
raiser?”)

Saying goodbye should be as brief as possible. No kiss. However, if your
ex leans in for one, no tongue. Also, when parting company, as you and
your wife head in one direction, don’t turn around to take one last
look. This could be the difference between watching a full or partial
football season.

So, guys, follow these simple rules and you may be sleeping in your own
bed again within a few, short weeks.

Global warming and the controversial
debate surrounding it have been ranked the most boring topics of all
time. In fact, the only entertaining story to come out of the climate
change debate was the ironic story of a global warming activist who
froze to death while doing research in Antarctica.

Now before you skip this article in favor of your horoscope, you ought
to know that “global warming” is about as scientific as student
astrology. Don’t let those evil tree-hugging activists steal anymore of
your money or your time. Even if we were to entertain the idea that
“global warming” was realistic, this author cannot help but wonder,
what’s the big deal?

After watching the film, An Inconvenient Truth, I found myself left with
some pestering questions for a certain Mr. Al Gore. Firstly, Al Gore,
can you truly be as ignorant to think that human indulgence is not worth
the degradation of the environment? Secondly, are you so egotistical, Al
Gore, that you ponder the consequences of your actions upon upcoming
generations? Any “global warming” information distributed henceforth by
Gore should include a candid disclaimer. For example, in An Inconvenient
Truth, Gore should have said something akin to:

"After losing the election to George Bush, I felt unappreciated. I
wanted to make my life’s story important again to America and to the
rest of the world.”

Finally, Al Gore, numerous news reports indicate that you engaged in
extra material affairs. On behalf of a concerned nation, I ask you, has
global warming spread to your pants?

As to anyone who would find themselves sad at the occurrence of dying
polar bears, let’s face the truth; we all know that polar bears are a
malicious and nasty breed. They are an incredibly aggressive animal whom
salivates at the thought of gnawing on human flesh. By eliminating the
polar bear, we are eradicating a dangerous animal, which in turn
increases the livelihood of a much more important species, the
omnipotent Homo sapiens. In regards to the endangerment of the penguin,
let me remind you that they are the only class of bird which cannot fly.
The extinction of such an animal sounds reasonable.

If you happen to reside in New England, you need no introduction to the
burden of harsh winters. If “global warming” is occurring, then we no
longer have to endure the stressors of winter. It will be unnecessary
for us to wear inflated coats, with three additional layers, and thermal
underwear all lodged underneath. There will be no more cleaning snow off
of your dashboard in the frigid mornings, or of your car drifting off of
the road while you are hastily speeding to work.

In addition to warmer temperatures, there will be more people wearing
less clothing, which is a plus most of the time. Indeed, who really
cares whether or not Arctic sea ice is disappearing? If the topography
truly is changing, perhaps we can start planting trees and finally make
use of that terrain.

Speaking of agriculture, climate change activists argue that temperature
changes will decrease crop growth. Naive people fail to appreciate the
only plants of any significance, which are those grown illegally in
basements and garages. These plants will continue to grow underground
splendidly. Further cultivation is unnecessary, as impeccable food
technologies have provided the world with delicious artificial food,
such as Doritos.

Furthermore, according to climate change experts, cow flatulence is
damaging to the climate. If passing gas is harmful, this writer is in a
lot of trouble. The audacity of these “global warming” activists
astounds me. If advocates really want to save the earth, there are more
appropriate ways in doing so. For example, high-school administrations
could cease cutting down trees in order to produce textbooks that very
few students actually read.

Don’t let those environmentalists put you in a state of fear. The
dangers of global warming are nothing but a lot of hype, exacerbated by
egocentric environmentalists eager to use junk science to draw attention
to themselves. So drive your Hummer, brush your teeth with the water
running, and produce those greenhouse gases all you want, because even
if “global warming” is real, it’s not that big of a deal anyways.